


By Columbine and Senna

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [16]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Costumes, Day Ten, Day Twelve, Established Relationship, F/F, TWW Valentines LemonFest 2019, dance/ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 06:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21070583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Ada and Hecate attend a masquerade--and set a little wager on the evening as well.For TWW Valentine Lemon!Fest.Day Ten Prompt: Costumes.Day Twelve Prompt: Dance/Ball.





	By Columbine and Senna

Hecate Hardbroom’s stomach clenched most unpleasantly as she transferred into the already-crowded room. This was a terrible idea, she realized in hindsight. But there was nothing she could do about it now.

Well technically, she _could_ do something about it—she could use her magic, call Ada to her, but the entire evening would be ruined. This had involved weeks of planning, and Ada’s delight at the whole charade had been utterly palpable. Hecate couldn’t steal it from her, not when they were so close to ending the whole game.

She took a long, shallow breath, letting her fingers stretch and ripple, letting herself adjust to the eddying energies around her, the people mingling and whirling around in a cacophony of laughter and conversation, overlain with sultry music and the occasional clink of a champagne glass or the slithering ripple of a heavy dress train across the marble floor.

Thank Goddess above it was a masquerade. Hecate felt safer behind the copper and gold mask that covered half her face, rising over her forehead to meld with the ornate gilded horns that curved above her head. She hoped her costume was intimidating enough to keep anyone else from approaching.

She was here for one person, one woman only. She lightly placed her hand over her stomach, steeling herself with the thought that somewhere, Ada was in the crowd. Searching for her, waiting for her. She couldn’t let Ada find her as an anxious mess—Ada would immediately feel guilty, and the night would be an absolute failure.

Hecate Hardbroom was not a woman built for failure.

The truth of the matter was that Ada Cackle never expected anything, never pushed Hecate for anything more than whatever she would willingly give, and this gentle acceptance was a greater motivator than anything else Hecate had encountered in a romance before. So when Ada had seen the promotional piece for this masquerade in _The Witching Times_ and had given a small wistful sigh, Hecate had immediately been on alert. She had secured tickets and presented them to Ada by tea-time, much to the blonde’s absolute surprise and delight.

It was Ada, naturally, who’d suggested that they not reveal their costume choices until the night of the ball. Her way of returning the favor of Hecate’s surprise, Hecate understood. Later, Ada had teased that once she completed her costume, Hecate wouldn’t be able to recognize her.

Hecate had found the idea particularly laughable. She’d know that woman anywhere, behind any disguise. Ada had merely arched her brow, silently expressing her doubt.

Of course, Hecate had no choice but to defend her honor.

And thus the rules of the game were established. They were to complete their costumes without telling the other a single detail about them. They were to arrive separately. The first one to find the other won the game (the prize had not been officially discussed, yet was universally understood). A rather simple concept, actually.

Except that Hecate had the particularly intense urge to duck into the nearest closet until the noise died down and the crowd disappeared completely. She set another drying spell on her hands, which were constantly going clammy with anxiety and adrenaline. A dancing couple, half drunk and fully unaware of anyone around them, swooshed past, the woman’s fairy wings causing Hecate to immediately lurch backwards in an attempt to avoid being hit. She was keenly aware of other eyes watching her, of how her sharp movements only drew more attention, and the desire to transfer away only grew.

She just needed to find Ada. Win the game, kiss the girl, have a few glasses of champagne, and get the hell out. Maybe a dance, if the bubbly kicked in quickly enough.

She could do this. It was a simple task, certainly not as complex as building a potion or giving a lecture. She didn’t have to speak to a single person, until she reached Ada, and even if people did stare or find her odd, it didn’t matter because no one knew who she was.

And she was absolutely certain that she was completely unrecognizable. The theme of the night was _mythos_, and she’d gone for something a bit tongue-in-cheek, given her reputation: a demon wood spirit, with arching bronze horns and large curved batwings of dark brown leather filigreed with gold. She had designed her costume to showcase the parts of her body that Ada loved most, the spaces that always drew her hands or her lips, the places that Hecate often found those blue eyes resting with that particular look of adoring desire that never failed to make her knees absolutely weak.

The result was absolutely scandalous, compared to her usual wardrobe. A low-cut corset of espresso-colored leather pressed her breasts up to heights they hadn’t naturally achieved in twenty years, the unusually large amount of skin on display dusted in a layer of copper and gold, which seemed to ripple when she turned under the lights. The skirt was made of black lamé, which shone dark copper when touched with light. Inner lining gave it weight, letting the fabric mold to the outline of her hips while still being looser and less restrictive than her usual fare. The tips of her wings curved inward, practically framing her ass, which looked rather wonderful in the clinging skirt (if she did say so herself). Another favorite feature of Ada’s—her headmistress had expressed gratitude more than once that the straight lines and thick brocades of her usual dresses didn’t show off this asset to its full potential, because otherwise it would have proven a constant distraction.

She’d chosen heels even higher than her daily fare, and with the horns, she absolutely towered in a way that was nothing short of terrifying. That was a conscious choice as well—she had no desire to give off any vibe of approachability to strangers, and the more people she kept at bay, the more successful her night would be.

She hoped Ada’s reaction would be less frightened—somehow, she knew that nothing she did or wore could ever intimidate the woman. It was a comforting thought, and the much more pleasurable image of Ada’s reaction to her outfit pushed her to move forward once more, thankful that her added height gave her an advantage in the crowd.

Not that she was the tallest or most ostentatiously dressed, by far. One witch had a head piece that rotated a full six feet above her head, a glittering line of stars. Another wore a dress with a train at least twenty feet long, filled with giant peacock feathers which twittered and moved under enchantment. Hecate wasn’t impressed in the slightest. If anything, she was annoyed by how slowly their costumes made them move, how they kept her from finding Ada a few seconds sooner.

A laugh rose above the crowd, lilting and feminine.

_Ada_. Hecate swiveled slightly, trying to figure out where the sound had originated. She took a guess and moved towards the champagne fountain, where several witches and wizards mulled about, stopping to chat in small groups. She willed herself to move more slowly, to look less frantic as she glanced around the room.

One woman was the right height, but all resemblance stopped there. Hecate felt a frisson of disappointment and fought back the urge to outright murder the wizard who had turned to fully ogle her breasts. She sufficed by fixing him with a look so deadly that he instinctively took two steps back. Tamping down a smirk of triumph, she continued her search.

The brief moment of joy from intimidating a man gave her a bolster of energy. The champagne seemed tempting, a chance to dull her nerves, but it could also slow her brain, make it harder to find Ada. It wasn’t worth the risk, she decided.

Besides, she could do this without the aid of alcohol. She could be brave, for Ada. The thought of Ada’s smile, Ada’s blue eyes dancing with delight, was enough to keep her anxiety at a manageable level. Not for the first time, she thought of all the things Ada deserved in a lover—a woman who was daring and courageous and playful, able to meet her on every level. In the beginning, Hecate had feared that one day Ada would realize how ill-suited they were, how utterly incapable Hecate was of being everything she needed, but as time moved on, Hecate had learned that she was able to do and be all those things, simply because it was what Ada deserved. Through Ada’s love, through love for Ada, she was capable of more than she’d imagined.

Tonight being a prime example. The room was still too full of people, the air heavy and too hot to breathe in perfect comfort, and yet, Hecate was far less distressed than she would usually be at such a function (in all honesty, she would never _be_ at a such a function, had it not been for Ada). She took another deep breath and silently congratulated herself on her own bravery.

Something caught her eye. She followed the flash, moving closer to the center of the large vaulted ballroom, where couples whirled in a dizzying array of costumery. She craned her neck, trying to figure out what had caught her attention.

There it was, again—a whisper of blonde. Her gaze latched onto a couple twenty feet away, whisking around the dance floor in a waltz. If it was Ada, she’d styled her hair completely differently, in loose blonde waves enchanted to shimmer with peach and silver. Hecate’s eyes moved further south, and her sense of certainty deepened.

Those hips. Goddess, she’d know those hips anywhere.

She shifted closer, weaving her way through a group of chattering witches, intent on her target. The couple was twirling further away, but she occasionally saw a flash of the silver crown, her only beacon in the sea of masks, the swirling maelstrom of glitter and feather and silk.

The couple were coming back around again. Yes, she was certain it was Ada now. The mask covered half her face, but that smile was unmistakable—as was the way Hecate’s leapt in response, even when she wasn’t the recipient of it.

Now she stopped, pulling back slightly to simply watch her lover whisk around the dance floor with graceful ease. She had found Ada, her anxiety was completely dissipated—she could take a few moments, let Ada enjoy her dance. Ada was a far more social creature than Hecate (a fact no one ever disputed, to be sure), and Hecate tried to give the woman as much space as she could when they were out with others. They both needed it, Hecate knew.

_Mermaid_, that’s what Ada would have called her costume. _Siren_ was the word that came to Hecate’s mind. Her dress was a shimmering concoction of iridescent peach and silvery powder blue, a fitted design with organza ruffles at the hips that trailed back into a diaphanous train. Like Hecate, she’d chosen a revealing neckline, cups filigreed with pearls and glittering jewels pattered to resemble sea shells. The dress had a thin pearls straps, with off-the-shoulder sleeves of rippling powder blue organza. The bodice was overlain with an under-corset of silver wire woven to resemble netting, which flared out at the back into a metal bustle, chains dangling from its ends adorned with starfish and shells, which clinked against each other in a little cheery symphony every time Ada moved. Currently, they were whirling and swirling behind her, giddily chaotic from the speed of her turns. Now that she was closer, Hecate could easily see the enchantment rippling through Ada’s hair, shifting the color of her waves, strands of pearls woven around the base of her diadem like some classical painting of Venus.

There wasn’t a brighter star in the entire room. Hecate noted all the appreciative glances that went singing Ada’s way, her heart swelling with pride. _Yes, she’s lovely, isn’t she? Look and see how brightly she shines, how beautifully she glows. Isn’t she marvelous, isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t she, isn’t she, isn’t she?_

She hoped that Ada felt all the admiring stares, felt the warmth of those looks—she hoped Ada understood, in some small measure, all the beauty she held, all the things Hecate saw and loved on a daily basis. And later, when they were back together again, Hecate would lean in and whisper, would _make_ Ada look around and see exactly what she left in her wake, make her understand how adored and adorable she was. And even later, she’d make Ada understand what kind of effect she had on Hecate in moments like this. But for now, she’d just enjoy being a lover to the loveliest thing in the room. Patience was a virtue, and when it came to waiting for Ada Cackle, Hecate had it in spades.

She slipped further back into the crowd, finding a pillar to lean against as she simply watched Ada cast her unique magic. Ada was happy, and when she was so openly joyful, no one was immune to her sunny smile or her twinkling eyes. Hecate’s mouth began to twinge under the stress of her own smile. The song came to an end and Ada politely begged a moment’s rest from her dance partner. Hecate hailed down a passing waiter, and forgetting her previous desire not to speak to a single soul, placed an order for Ada’s favorite cocktail, to be delivered _to the most beautiful sight in the room, from an adoring admirer._

She couldn’t help but shift further back as Ada’s drink arrived, wanting to watch Ada’s reaction without giving herself away. Even beneath the mask of shell and silver, Ada’s expressive face betrayed her moment of confusion, slowly blooming into a smile as the waiter relayed the drink’s message. She looked around expectantly, the happiness thrumming through her frame practically palpable, and Hecate felt a flush of warmth in response. Ada sipped her drink delicately, now fully aware that one particular set of eyes was watching her. The smile curling at the corner of her mouth made Hecate’s stomach flip in anticipation.

Though Hecate Hardbroom had the reputation for being theatrical, Ada could certainly give a compelling performance of her own. The way she tilted her head slightly as she laughed, the delicate motion of her hand as she sent her glass floating back to the bar, the light trilling of her fingertips through her shimmering blonde and peach waves—it was a subtle show, but Hecate didn’t miss a single moment (yes, _siren_ was the best description of her costume, for she called to Hecate, pulled her with a force that defied all reason).

Finally, Hecate had waited as long as she could. It was becoming too close to a day at the academy, where Hecate could only watch and wait and ache with wanting—tonight she had every ability to act upon what she saw, and she’d take the chance with both hands, quite literally.

However, Ada’s spell hadn’t just affected her intended target. Her dancing partner, who’d been happily chatting away with her as she’d finished her drink, now took her hand and led her back to the dance floor.

Hecate stopped, though she didn’t step back again—she’d let Ada have one last whirl around the floor, let her get dizzied and distracted before swooping in.

Ada’s partner was some lithe young thing, hair a tumbling mess of reddish curls and a costume meant to resemble some kind of nymph. And the way she smiled at Ada—well, Hecate couldn’t blame the stranger for being smitten.

She _could_ blame the witch for her wandering hands, though. While the stranger’s right hand was clasping Ada’s in the traditional waltz stance, her left hand was sliding much farther down Ada’s hip than necessary. Moving further back, too.

Hecate knew that move far too well—how many times had she done the exact same thing, relishing the movements of Ada’s body beneath her hand, appreciating the curves she adored, sometimes slipping further down to squeeze her ass?

Oh, the younger woman was currently doing _exactly_ that. Hecate’s temperature rose.

Again, she understood the woman’s impulse. But they were strangers—and she certainly hadn’t asked Ada’s permission. That was the part that boiled Hecate’s blood the most. How _dare_ anyone take advantage—

Her building rage was cut short by Ada’s own hand, which easily grabbed the woman’s wrist and set her wandering hand back to its appropriate position—a little higher actually, on the curve of the under corset. The placement ensured that even if the woman’s hand went slipping down again, this time it would simply flare further away from Ada’s body as it followed the line of the metal bustle. Ada was still smiling, but the tilt of her head informed Hecate that she was quietly and not unkindly reading the woman the riot act.

_That’s right._ Hecate felt a measure of pride for the blonde. Ada’s open kindness was often misconstrued as weakened vulnerability—but the woman could hold her own with a gentle strength that Hecate had never seen equaled.

Still, Hecate would probably tease her about the handsy dance partner, later on.

She kept to the sidelines, trying to stay out of Ada’s sight until the song finished and Ada gave her partner one last smile of thanks. The younger woman said something, obviously attempting to continue their conversation and build their growing familiarity, but the tightness in Ada’s smile held a note of finality that brooked no refusals.

Hecate straightened her shoulders, hoping she looked much more nonchalant than she felt as she moved forward, her stature and foreboding wings making people naturally shift away. Almost as if she sensed her approach, Ada turned to her, the moment of recognition in those blue eyes making Hecate’s stomach clench in pure delight.

Ada ducked her head slightly, fighting back a grin. As delighted as she was to finally see her lover—even more delighted by just how scintillating her costume choice was—there was still the matter of the game, and the fact that Hecate was definitely the winner.

“In my defense, I did put myself out on the dance floor for you to find me,” Ada was never one to take a loss easily, and this was no exception. “So really, I _let_ you win.”

Hecate merely hummed in amusement. She held her hand out, a silent invitation to dance which Ada gladly accepted. The blonde very pointedly let her gaze wander up the length of Hecate’s body, blushing in delight at how daring Hecate had been, the secret knowledge that every detail had been for her alone only adding to the flush across her skin.

And even though the woman had dressed for Ada, she certainly wasn’t giving her any room for even the slightest victory.

“That’s not the point,” Hecate kept her voice low, leaning in to be heard over the music. “The point was that regardless of your disguise, I recognized you. Which means regardless of who won—which, for the record, was myself, _thank you very much_—I still proved you wrong.”

She tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a smug smirk as she taunted, “You’re just losing on all counts, Miss Cackle.”

Ada grinned. “I think I’ll still come out on top, by the end of the night.”

Hecate’s shoulders lifted in a silent laugh, merely shaking her head at the woman’s incorrigible nature. Ada could feel the easiness in Hecate’s frame, a lack of anxious tension that she hadn’t expected.

Truth be told, once she had arrived and fully took in the scope of the room, with all the people and heat and noise, she’d become worried about Hecate. She had forced herself to wait, to not give away their game—Hecate could find her in an instant, if things became too overwhelming. Then the waiter had delivered her drink, and she’d known that was Hecate’s way of assuring her that she was nearby and quite alright. Her worry had melted immediately, and she’d set out on the true agenda of the evening: seducing the woman who was currently in her arms, a more-than-willing victim of her charms.

She had laughed a little louder, knowing the sound was one of Hecate’s favorite things. She had leaned forward when telling a joke, hoping that wherever Hecate was, she was at an angle that afforded her a better view of her currently-bejeweled cleavage. She had played with her hair and let her fingertips lightly trace against her collarbone, seemingly unaware but knowing exactly how much Hecate adored kissing and nipping that particular area.

“How long ago did you find me?” Ada asked quietly.

Hecate considered the question. “Ten minutes? Perhaps a little more. You seemed to be enjoying yourself and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I would have enjoyed it more with you,” Ada assured her, slipping an extra note of warmth into her tone. Truly, she adored all the little ways that Hecate showed her love, her careful considerations for Ada’s wants and needs—Ada never felt dependent or smothered, and it only made her love Hecate more. But she had spent so much of her life without Hecate, so many scenes playing out with her secretly wishing the woman was there to share the moment with her, and now that it was a reality, she didn’t want to waste a single precious moment.

“You’ll have plenty of time with me for the rest of the night,” Hecate assured her, her tone almost patronizingly indulgent. With another sharp smile, she added, “Besides, I do like watching you, Ada Cackle.”

The thought of Hecate simply watching her reignited the fire under Ada’s skin. She loved witnessing Hecate’s little nuances, the flutter of her fingers or the set of her expressive brows or the way she sometimes chewed the inside of her cheek when faced with a particularly perplexing riddle—the thought that her own movements could inspire similar feelings and reactions in the brunette was deliciously overwhelming.

Speaking of overwhelming—Hecate’s choice of costume was certainly having a very pointed effect on the blonde.

“I like the heels,” Ada informed her, leaning in slightly to make her point—with the added height, Hecate’s breasts were perfectly even with Ada’s mouth. “Makes things wonderfully accessible.”

Even underneath the gold dust, Hecate’s skin visibly flushed. She wished she could find a witty retort, but she was still very much undone by the blue eyes that hadn’t released her from their gaze. Her only response was to pull Ada slightly closer, still trying to keep her hands relatively tame. Ada’s hand was on Hecate’s shoulder, her thumb lightly brushing over the bare skin—Hecate felt a measure of victory, knowing her dress had inspired the desired reaction. Ada had always expressed an appreciation for Hecate’s shoulders.

“I do hope this is edible glitter,” Ada frowned slightly, as if she were truly concerned.

There was no way that Hecate was ever going to survive this woman and her teasing. That had always been a given. She just wasn’t expecting to be absolutely murdered by it quite so soon in life.

She was so distracted that she barely had time to react to the drunk couple whipping by in a whirl of color, completely off-kilter and much faster than the timing of the song—she pulled Ada closer, twirling them sideways to shield the blonde from being completely knocked off her feet. Hecate’s heels stuttered and teetered, but Ada’s hands locked onto her waist, keeping her upright.

“You’re alright?” Hecate’s eyes were wide beneath her mask, and Ada felt herself melt at the love and concern in those dark depths.

“Of course,” Ada gave an amused chuckle. Really, Hecate’s overreaction was adorable.

The younger witch looked over her shoulder at the pair, still oblivious to the chaos they left int heir wake, “What absolute—”

Her words—all her thoughts entirely—were cut short by the lightest brush of Ada’s lips against the top of her breast. The blonde, ever the expert in finding the excuse for accidental touches, had used the pretext of simply moving closer and readjusting to the music to turn her head and steal a quick kiss.

“It’s fine, love,” Ada’s voice was gentle and reassuring, as calm as if she didn’t just take such a scandalous risk. “Everyone’s fine.”

Hecate merely nodded, still too shocked to form a verbal response. The undertones of blue in Ada’s mask only accented the intensity of her eyes, and Hecate found herself staring into them, completely pinned beneath their gaze.

She wasn’t sure how they even finished the waltz, because she had no awareness of her own body at all. Given Ada’s grin, the woman knew exactly how she was affecting her partner. Once the song finished, she gently took Hecate’s hand and led her through the throng, back to the pillar that had been Hecate’s safe spot.

People turned to watch them walk past. This time, Hecate didn’t mind the looks—in fact, she hoped people stared, hoped people saw the vision that was Ada, saw her just behind and understood exactly how they were connected, exactly what they were, together. _Yes, look and see—she is mine, I am hers. Now and always. Isn’t she delicious, isn’t she divine? Isn’t it miraculous that she chose me? Yes, be envious, oh, you should be, she’s the most wonderful thing in this room._

Ada stopped and gently took both of Hecate’s hands in her own, letting herself have another long look at the pillar of a woman before her. “It really is…quite lovely, my dear.”

“Not too frightening?” Hecate stepped closer, leaned further in—she was taunting Ada, with all her exposed skin, but she couldn’t help herself.

Ada’s knees trembled. She’d expressed more than once how she loved Hecate looming over her, loved the feeling of being completely overcome and overwhelmed by her—yes, she knew that Hecate had chosen every detail of this costume to please her, but each detail also spoke to the love and care that Hecate gave, the way she saw Ada’s desires and sought to fulfill them without ever being asked.

“Perhaps I like being frightened,” Ada answered simply. Hecate hummed in amusement. The quirk of her lips said all the things her mouth did not: _Then I’ll happily frighten you for the rest of our lives, Ada Cackle._

“Interesting choice of costume,” Hecate shifted her attention back to Ada’s dress, her current stance giving her a rather delectable view straight into the cups. “Were you hoping to shipwreck some poor sailors?”

Ada laughed at the quip, quickly recovered to shoot back, “Really, just one in particular.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ve already had multiple casualties,” Hecate informed her, her face filled with mock seriousness. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye and Ada knew what was coming. “That poor girl on the dance floor seemed absolutely distraught.”

“I’m actually surprised it took you this long to bring it up.”

“Timing, Miss Cackle, is everything.” Hecate leaned further in, stealing a quick, chaste kiss—an act made slightly more difficult by their masks. Her tone dipped lower as she added, “I can’t say that I blame her.”

Ada blushed again, and Hecate knew that she didn’t fully believe her—while Ada was secure in herself and her sexuality, she didn’t always realize just how easily she affected those around her, with her grace and her wit and her bubbliness and her joyful beauty. Yet another sin to hold against her twin, for convincing her that she was always the lesser one, in that regard.

“I wish I could make you understand,” Hecate placed her hands on Ada’s hips, moving further in so that she could whisper in the blonde’s ear. Again, she was highly aware of the people around them, the occasional glances in their direction, but she found that she didn’t care. “I wish I could make you truly understand how it feels to watch you, to see the way everyone looks at you—to know that you could have anyone in this room, and you still chose me.”

The wonder in Hecate’s tone was perhaps the most seductive part, Ada thought. She could actually see the tension in Hecate’s shoulders, and she felt a tremor of delight in knowing that it had nothing to do with anxiety.

The shining demon pulled back slightly, dark eyes still watching her with such heated intensity that she had to remind herself to breathe. Oh, how she loved the way Hecate made her feel—and oh, how she wanted to make Hecate feel the exact same way.

With a slight tilt of her head, Ada motioned to the champagne fountain. “A toast? To a game well played?”

“Sounds lovely,” Hecate let one nail delicately drag across the row of pearls outlining the curve of Ada’s bodice, the sound rippling with heated intention. Ada’s lips curled into another smirk and she gently turned and led the way to the fountain.

Hecate couldn’t resist the impulse to lightly place her hand on the small of Ada’s back, feeling another trill of delight at the way Ada smiled in response. They rarely got to indulge in public displays of affection, which made them treasure the moments that did happen all the more.

Apparently Hecate wasn’t the only one emboldened by the anonymity of their masks—whenever she leaned forward to retrieve their glasses, she felt the warmth of Ada’s hand sliding down the curve of her backside, making Hecate jump slightly at the openness.

When she turned back to the blonde, those blue eyes were wide with innocence. “What? You can’t tell me that you chose that skirt and didn’t expect that exact reaction.”

Hecate fought back a grin. “I was expecting the reaction to be slightly more subtle, though I can’t imagine why I ever thought you’d be capable of restraint, Ada Cackle.”

The gleam in those blue eyes spelled absolute trouble for Hecate.

“Oh, I assure you, there’s plenty more that I'm currently keeping myself from doing, my dear. So perhaps you should be glad that I'm exhibiting this much self-control.” Ada cocked her head to the side, the challenge in the gesture unmistakable.

Nope. No way would she take on _that_ kind of challenge, not in public. Hecate had already learned that lesson, most thoroughly. She merely filled their glasses, handing one to Ada and lifting hers in a slight salute. “To sirens.”

“To devils.” Ada’s grin matched her words.

No doubt about it, Hecate Hardbroom was beyond saving. However, she welcomed her own downfall with open arms and a wicked grin of her own.

* * *

If Hecate Hardbroom had to dissect exactly how they’d gotten to this particular moment, she’d have to break it down into four distinct steps.

First, there was the champagne. And the stronger cocktail afterwards. And Ada’s heated, searing gaze, far headier than any alcohol coursing through her veins.

Then, there was Ada’s far-too-nonchalant-to-be-believable suggestion that they get some fresh air. In the gardens. In the shrubbery maze. Followed by Hecate’s equally nonchalant agreement, as if she were only agreeing to a walk, nothing more. As if she didn’t know her partner at all.

Of course, that was followed by Ada’s suggestion that they remove their masks, once in the maze. Which Hecate thought was a rather sound idea—after all they were alone, they didn’t need them, did they?

The final straw, one could say, was Ada quite innocently noticing that a particular section of shrubbery had a large indentation, obviously intentionally hewn out to create a resting space or a turnabout for the gardener’s wagon. Of course, Hecate, being a naturally curious thing, had only stepped into the space to gauge how large it was, nothing more.

However, she had no innocent excuses for the spells she set around them, once Ada stepped in with her. The invisibility spell, the silencing spell—there was no more pretending.

Ada’s lipstick was beyond saving, and her skin now held shimmering traces of gold and copper—and Hecate loved it, love the mess and how it physically showed the places she’d touched, the points on Ada’s geography that she’d explored and made home.

She took a moment to simply pause, to let her eyes wander over Ada, cast in a pale shade of blue by the moon, and her heart clenched with a sudden jolt of wonder.

This was real. This was her life. Here, with Ada. Even as a little girl dreaming of her perfect life as an adult, she’d never imagined anything this beautiful, this wonderful, this truly happy. But then again, she never could have allowed herself to dream up anything half as magical as Ada.

She lightly let her hand trace over the shimmering waves of blonde and peach, fingertips ghosting over the outline of Ada’s jaw in quiet wonder.

“You are absolutely breathtaking,” she whispered, her throat nearly too tight to speak at all. The way Ada’s expression melted in response only intensified her feelings.

“Why is it,” Ada’s mouth quirked into a small smile, but her voice was still thick with emotion. “That every time I try to seduce you, you turn around and outdo me?”

Hecate couldn’t help but laugh. Resuming an air of mock seriousness, she stood a little straighter. “Apologies. I shall try to be less moved by your efforts, Miss Cackle.”

“It really is bad form not to at least let me win _something_,” Ada informed her, hands slipping up from Hecate’s hips to slide around to her shoulder blades, bringing her further in so that Ada could bite her collarbone again (_she hadn’t been joking about hoping the glitter was edible, she planned to devour Hecate whole_).

_Oh, love, you can’t win something you’ve always already had_, Hecate thought, but she wisely didn’t say so aloud. Instead, she merely sighed, melting further into Ada, letting her fingers sink into the blonde shimmering waves, pulling just enough to elicit a small sound of delight from the woman whose mouth was slowly moving further south.

Ada’s hands were moving again, too, slipping back over the smoothness of Hecate’s leather corset, easily finding the bottom and giving a hard tug. Her reward was more of Hecate’s breasts, spilling out of the top.

“_Ada_,” her lover hissed, the scandal and the desire evident in every ounce of her tone. Hecate was still shifting closer, whimpering at the heat of Ada’s mouth on her skin again. Her hands left Ada’s hair to reach out further, grabbing the shrub branches for some kind of support. The height of the shoes she’d chosen for the evening meant she had to lean down even more for Ada to reach her, and the strain wasn’t exactly welcome. But oh, having Ada beneath her, so small and sheltered and ardent, was worth it all. Her wings shielded them further, and the thought made her happy. Wrapped up in her own little world with Ada, there wasn’t much more she could wish for.

However, Ada must have felt the tension in Hecate’s body, because she stopped her efforts for a moment, quietly asking, “A bit taxing in those heels, isn’t it?”

Hecate blinked, looking down at her questioningly. Ada smiled, a wave of her hand producing a small bench, right beside them. Sweetly, she suggested, “Perhaps you should have a seat. Give your poor feet a break.”

Even though Ada definitely had other motives for such a move, Hecate felt her heart clench at the obvious concern in her lover’s expression. Oh, Ada. For all the ways she seduced Hecate Hardbroom, her gentle care was by far the most effective. Particularly when she wove it into a mutually rewarding scenario.

Ada felt a wave of delighted satisfaction as she watched Hecate easily slide onto the bench. Her chest was a beautiful disaster, flushed skin showing in all the places where her body glitter had been practically removed, shiny marks from Ada’s own lipstick on her shoulders and neck like graffiti (_Ada was here, and here, and here, and here again…_), the sharp line across her pale breasts where the body paint ended, the sign of just how much more of her that Ada had exposed. As she sat, the corset shifted those breasts higher again, begging to be sampled with teeth and tongue again.

Hecate looked up at her, eyes sparkling in the darkness, still ethereally elegant, even in the mess and chaos. She may have chosen a demon as her inspiration, but she looked unspeakably holy, some sacred precious thing that had somehow blown into Ada’s life, dark and angelic and ineffable.

Ada stepped closer, letting both of her hands trace the outline of Hecate’s face, fingertips coming together at the point of her chin. Hecate was simply watching her, eyes big enough to swallow the whole world.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Ada breathed. Hecate let out a low, shaky breath of her own, and Ada had no doubt what her love was doing to her lover—a certainty that only increased the fire humming in her own blood.

Hecate’s hands were tugging at Ada’s skirt, pulling her closer still, slipping over her hips, grabbing her ass with such fierce desire that Ada’s head spun.

However, those expressive hands were quickly becoming frustrated as Hecate fully realized the design of Ada’s costume. Like an otter trying to open a clam, Hecate twittered and flitted, her confusion and frustration becoming adorable. Hands slid up Ada’s hips, quickly stopped by the domed wire bustle. They retreated, flying to the metal half corset, hard and cold against warm palms. Those hands were not to be defeated though, slipping up to press over Ada’s breasts, slipping back to realize the dress wasn’t going anywhere, with the corset and the series of straps. She couldn’t even really lift Ada’s skirt, due to the fitted cut.

“This is—” Hecate huffed. Ada tried not to laugh as her lover growled in displeasure. “Forget everything I said about your dress before—this is a terrible design. I can’t—there’s not—I can’t even—”

She was whining now, no attempt to hide how upset she was about not having access to all of her favorite sights and tastes and sounds. Her fingers clutched at Ada’s hips again, squeezing her frustration against the curves.

Ada couldn’t stop her giggle this time. Hecate was practically pouting.

“Well, at least one of us finds it humorous—Ada, this dress is a _crime_.”

Blue eyes rolled heavenward at the vehemence in Hecate’s tone. Then, simply, she said, “Well, if it bothers you that much, I’ll just take it off.”

That got a reaction. Hecate went stock still, looking back up at Ada with eyes the size of saucers. Ada knew what was coming next, before Hecate even spoke, so she pointed out, “We’re invisible, Hecate. And they’re beginning to announce the costume contest winners. Everyone else is crowded into the ballroom. We’re absolutely safe.”

The light lift of a single eyebrow informed Ada that she’d won the argument.

“I suppose…” Hecate’s voice was still slow, a little breathless. “I suppose that’s very true.”

Ada hummed in agreement. “The truest of true.”

Hecate smirked at that. Still, she teased, “Don’t you want to go back inside? See if your costume won the night?”

Now it was Ada who smirked in absolute triumph, “Oh, my dear, I can assure you, I already know it did.”

The disheveled devil seated before her simply laughed. With a snap of her copper burnished fingers, she vanished Ada’s outfit entirely.

“Sit,” she commanded, shifting her knees slightly as her hands pulled at Ada’s hips, guiding her into her lap.

Despite an entire evening spent around extravagant costumes and décor, all themed around myths and magic, wrapped in a beautiful dress and listening to divine music, _this_ was the moment that Ada felt like something out of fairy tale, completely vulnerable in the lap of a powerful woman with eyes that burned through her in the best of ways. Hecate’s mouth was quirking at the corner, eyes still flitting over Ada’s face, watching every nuance of her expression as her right hand slipped to the small of Ada’s back, holding her steady as her left hand trilled over her hip with aching slowness, fingertips swirling over the sensitive skin of Ada’s inner thigh before slipping further.

Ada couldn’t stop her body from shuddering at the light brush of Hecate’s fingertips at her entrance, the lazy way a single digit slid inside, testing. Hecate’s hum of approval set her skin aflame.

“Somehow,” Hecate’s voice was a low purr, absolutely smug. “I still think I’m the one winning in this situation.”

Ada wanted to laugh, both from frustration at how Hecate’s fingers teased just as much as her tone, and from amusement at how her lover still couldn’t let go of the fact that she’d won a silly little bet.

Putting her hands on Hecate’s hips as an anchor, Ada leaned in, nuzzling her nose against Hecate’s and feeling a rush of delight for the way that simple action created a delicious reaction from the woman beneath her. Letting her lips brush against Hecate’s, she suggested, “Call it a draw?”

Hecate gave a low hum of incredulity, but her chin still tilted upwards, sliding their lips together. She let Ada’s tongue part the seam of her lips, slipping past teeth with heated electricity. Hecate’s fingers mimicked the movement, gently feathering at Ada’s folds before sinking fully inside the wet heat of Ada’s center. Ada arched into the touch with a heavy sigh of relief, Hecate’s other hand deepening her press against Ada’s back, steadying her as her hips rocked slightly.

The only piece Ada still wore was her crown of pearl and shell, but she was still every inch a siren to Hecate, her flushed chest and glowing skin, leaning further into Hecate and making small sounds that drove her lover to the brink of insanity as she shifted against Hecate's fingers, hot and wet and wanting. Ada kissed her again, giving a heated moan into Hecate's mouth, and Hecate knew would crash upon her rocks in a heartbeat, happily be dragged into whatever deep the woman led her, if it meant more of this, exactly this.

She'd even break the rules of the game, just a little. Just for Ada.

“Fine,” Hecate’s voice remained as unaffected as ever, as if they were merely discussing the weather. With a tone of patronizing indulgence, she smiled up at Ada, “I suppose we both win.”

Ada couldn’t agree more.


End file.
